Drifters' Alliance, Book 2 (13 page)

“You’re speaking about your past. Your relationship with your father.”

“More like my whole existence.” I look back at him and see the face of someone who cares. It’s probably just the brew causing me to see and think that. I wonder if the concoction was designed to get me talking, but my curiosity about that is not stopping me from sharing, that’s for sure. I just want to get the words out of me and out of my head for good.

“I only knew one world for the longest time. And then … and then…” I think about Macon and can’t continue. I risk tears going further down that road, and I’m afraid once they start, I won’t be able to stop them. Not with this frigging tea in me.

“You left after your fight with Macon, is that right?”

I nod, clamping my teeth together to keep from saying anything else.

“He was your friend. A good friend, I take it.”

I nod once more. It seems crazy that it’s only now when it’s being pointed out to me that I’ve realized it, but it’s true; that fight with Macon was the last straw. That was the impetus that I needed to finally get myself out of there. I’d been thinking about it and planning it in the back of my head for a long time, but my actual departure was a last-minute decision fueled by my horror and sadness over what I’d done.

“That must have been very difficult. To be pitted against your friend and forced to take his life or lose your own.”

His statement doesn’t need a response from me. We both know he’s one hundred percent right. But the memory hits me and kind of wakes me up from my tea-induced stupor with its clarity. My emotions at the time were so out of place. “I remember thinking it was totally normal to be standing there in the pit with Macon across from me. We’d come up through the last several levels together. He was ahead of me at first, but I caught up. He’s older. Did you know that?” I look at Jeffers, on the verge of crying as the memory wraps me up tight.

“I suspected. He looks older.”

“He is. A few years. Before I came up to his level, I guess he was kind of uninspired. But then we got partnered in several rounds, some training pits, and we became friends. Then he worked harder, so we could stay together.” I’m finding it hard to swallow past the lump in my throat. I have to stop talking or I risk vomiting up my sadness.

“And then you had to fight him to the death.” Jeffers looks at the ground shaking his head. “What they’ve done and continue to do to our youth…it’s criminal. It should not be tolerated.”

I sigh long and loud, looking out at the Dark. It feels good to hear someone else say that. “Yes. I agree. Now I do, anyway. Back then … I just accepted it.”

“Everyone there does.”

A long silence follows before I speak again.

“And so here we are…,” I face my healer, slash cook, slash navigator, slash … possible leader of an eventual mutiny on my ship, “…me sitting here wondering if I can trust you not to stab me in the back one day, and you standing there revealing nothing that will change my thoughts on that.” There’s a bitterness to my words. I want to like him and trust him, but he’s refusing to be drawn into that place. I hate it when people won’t cooperate with my plans. He’s such an asset; I really want him on my side.

Now it’s Jeffers’ turn to stare out the clearpanel to the Dark beyond. He stands there for so long saying nothing, I figure our conversation is over. My mind wanders to the Alliance, wondering when they’re going to contact us, whether we’re going to have to pass some test to get in, or whether they’re going to just hear about me and decide I’m too big a risk.
Will I tell them about the biogrid right from the beginning or use it to bargain with if they reject me?

“I was with the OSG from a very young age as well.”

Jeffers’ voice is so unexpected, it startles me. I sit up straighter to cover my reaction.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes. In fact, I was one of those people who sat in judgment, who chose which recruit would be pitted against another.”

“Oh. I guess you did pretty well there, then.” That job is reserved for the veterans, the men who are part of the inner sanctum. They report to the top brass. I knew he was experienced from the way he carries himself, but this kind of shocks me. Those guys are lifers. None of them ever leave except in a body bag.
Is he’s the only one who’s ever escaped? Or maybe others have tried and their former colleagues just made it look like a natural death when they failed?

“If by pretty well you mean that the blood of many humans has run through my fingers, then yes.” His voice has gone cold and his body stiff.

“You left, though.” I find that hard to believe.
Leaving at that level?
It just doesn’t happen.

“Actually, I was shipped out.”

I frown. “How could you have been shipped out? You’re alive.”

Shipping out only happens in really rare circumstances, when someone’s so damaged from a fight or accident that no amount of MI is going to bring them back. It’s a term I never liked to use because it’s a lie; everyone knows it means floating. It’s just done where no one can see it. A dirty little secret the OSG likes to keep under wraps and no one talks about in mixed company.

“I have friends. Good friends who never let me down.”

I feel sick over that. I let Macon down. “Good for you.” I try but fail to not sound bitter. I hate myself more than I did ten minutes ago, and I would have thought that impossible.

“People make mistakes. I’ve made a lifetime of them. But when I was given a second chance, I knew it was more than an opportunity; it was a gift. I needed to atone for my sins, and the universe provided me with the perfect circumstances in which to do it.”

“Which was…?”

“A new life. I was reborn, to become the man you see before you today. I seek peace and harmony in all things, rather than conflict. I bring life, not death. I seek friendships with people who I can trust to live a good life with me, who wish to bring light into the world, not darkness.”

“Oh. Well.” He’s definitely not describing me, even though a very big part of me wishes he were. “I guess you’ll be getting off at the next station, then.” I can’t believe how sad that makes me. I feel like I’m the darkest of dark people, running my life on the blade of a knife, always ready to push my agenda through with the tip of it.

“Not necessarily.” He faces me more fully now, his head up and eyes alert.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I’m suspicious, like I am of any preacher who tries to show me the way down whatever path they claim is the one of righteousness.

“It means that I see who you really are, Cass. And I like that person. I would fly a lifetime with that woman.”

“I hear a
but
behind that declaration.” I smile at that, a sad type of smile, though. There have been a lot of those kinds of buts in my life.
I love you, but…; I’d be happy to let you do that, but…; You could leave, but … then I’d have to kill you.

“There are no buts. I just wonder if you’re aware of how often you are not yourself.”

I have to think about that for a few seconds. “I don’t get it. I’m always me.”

“None of us are just one person all the time. We’re more complicated than that. Sometimes we are our best selves. Other times, not. I’m a healer and a cook. Sometimes I’m a defender and other times I’m an enforcer. But through it all, even though I am sometimes fractured, I am a man who is here to atone. To become better than who I was. The essence of who I am does not change. I seek to be my best self in every situation. The question is, who are
you
? Who is the real Cass Kennedy? Have you ever stopped to think about that? Have you ever just decided who you’re going to be —who your best self is— and used that as your guidance beacon?”

I shrug, almost amused by his attempt to dig into a deepness that just isn’t there with me. “I’d like to think I’m this amazing person who has all these facets, like you have, but I’m just not. I see what I want, and I go get it. If someone gets in my way, I go around them. If I can’t go around them, I go through them. And I give no mercy to those who try to hurt me or my friends.”

“Even when it’s you doing the hurting? What then?”

His words are like a knife pricking me in the heart. “Even then,” I say. “No mercy.” He’s right about me; I do cause pain and I don’t forgive, even when it’s me who’s to blame. But I’m okay with that. Why should I show myself any mercy? I’ve hurt people doing the things I’ve done, so I deserve to pay for that with regret and loss of friendships. That’s fair.

I’ve never believed one can atone for sins like I’ve committed. The hurt doesn’t ever go away, and people never forget what you’ve done to them when it’s left scars. It makes the view of Macon up on that clearpanel even more depressing. He was my friend, and I turned him into my enemy simply by not thinking things through. By not being my best self. I will never be able to atone for that. No one has a heart big enough to forgive on that level.

Jeffers isn’t done trying to save my soul. “You deserve mercy, just as anyone does. You just have to truly want it and be willing to earn it.”

I shrug off his touchy feely advice, not believing a word of it. But I don’t want to alienate him entirely, because I know he’s trying to help, so I offer up something I think he’ll like. “I need to get better at planning.” I’m imagining that I could kind of limit my sins in the future by being more careful. “At thinking before taking action.”

Jeffers nods, looking almost hopeful. “I suspect most people could use a little more of that skill.”

“Maybe you could remind me when you see me jumping into things that I should take a moment to think first.”

“I could try. I don’t suppose you’ll always listen.” His mouth quirks up in a smile at that.

“But I can try. If you’ll try, I’ll try.” Why I’m setting this guy up to be my monitor, I have no idea, other than it feels like the right thing to do. It could be the tea making me hopeful and willing to take silly risks. Ironically, this is probably one of those times I should think something through more thoroughly before I open my mouth.
Why does life have to be so confusing?

“Cass, I trust that you will do everything you can to make this ship fly and fly well … to get along in the universe with others in a positive way. You left the OSG to start a new life, and I know from personal experience that this is no small feat. Anyone who manages to do it is usually very motivated to succeed. I also know that you have not yet begun to pay for that decision, and that the day you do, everyone around you will feel the pain with you. But even so, I’m here. I’m going to remain a part of your crew as long as you stay true to who you are, and as long as you remember the reasons why you left the OSG to become the captain of the DS Anarchy.”

I nod. “I can’t ask for any more than that.”

“On the contrary. One day, you
will
be able to. I hope we get there together.”

I nod again, but can’t say anything else. I’ve been disappointed way too many times in my life to believe we could end up being like family, which is what I think he’s offering. But that’s okay, because being a tight crew is good enough for me.

“What are you going to do about him?” Jeffers asks, switching focus to the clearpanel. He lifts a hand toward the float chamber and Macon inside it.

“Nothing for right now. Could you make sure he gets food and a place to sleep in one of the brig chambers?”

“I could. But maybe it would be better if you did that.”

I shake my head. “I can’t. He hates me.”

“He just needs time to heal. We all do.”

“Yeah. And in the meantime I have to worry about him stabbing me between the shoulder blades.”

Jeffers gives me a scolding look. “He had plenty of opportunity to do that before you found out who he really is, and he was never anything but willing and accommodating.”

“Yeah, when he was trying to get his hands on the disk and was waiting for his ride outta here.” I shake my head. “I love Macon, but I can’t trust him.”

“If you say so.” Jeffers bows and backs up a step. “I’ll go now if that suits you.”

I sigh. We’re back on formal terms, apparently. “Yes, it suits me fine. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jeffers leaves me on the flightdeck alone, and I sit there trying to figure out what to do next.
Should I check out the progress made by my engineers and lieutenant? Visit the biogrid to see how Lucinda’s getting along? Take a nap and sleep off this crazy tea that’s still making me feel a little woozy? Move Captain Boob over to his dead ship and seal him inside? Beg forgiveness from the boy who I know will never give it?

I stand, my decision made based on the theory of which is the greater evil.

Chapter Twenty

STANDING OUTSIDE THE FLOAT CHAMBER, I watch Macon through the portal window as he stares into the abyss.
 
I wonder what he’s thinking, if he’s planning my demise or waiting for the moment he’ll be released into the Dark where he’ll suffer a painful death. Maybe he’s thinking back to that moment in the challenge pit when I stood over him with my knife at his throat. I know that’s all I can think about now.

The door slides open, and I step over the threshold. “Macon.”

He doesn’t turn or say anything.

“Macon, I’m here to move you to another spot.”

“I’m fine here.”

It’s so strange to see him still being Rollo, but to hear him being Macon. I’ve never been so fully conned in my entire life.

“Well, I’m not fine with you here. Come on.”

I back out of the door, waiting for him to follow me. He takes his time about it, but eventually he’s there in the threshold, looking straight ahead. Eye contact is too much to expect, I suppose.

I gesture with my hand out. “This way.” My original plan to bring him to another holding chamber is suddenly overruled by my intense desire to make a connection with him. Any connection will do.
I just need to keep him close…

He steps out and moves in front of me, walking as though he’s moving down death row instead of away from it with every step.

“Take a left up ahead, and climb the stairs on your right.”